


Order Up

by ForASecondThereWedWon



Series: Bughead Stories [14]
Category: Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: Breaking and Entering, F/M, Humor, Jughead serves Betty a milkshake, Pop Tate's Chocklit Shoppe, Romance, Wuh-hey! What a pun, and then he serves her something else, bughead - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-10
Updated: 2018-03-10
Packaged: 2019-03-29 07:04:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,393
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13921893
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ForASecondThereWedWon/pseuds/ForASecondThereWedWon
Summary: Originally posted on Fanfiction.net. With Pop's perennially open diner closed for a few days, what are two hungry teenagers to do? Yes, it's breaking and entering, but it's for a good cause: a date with Jughead Jones. When he discovers a milkshake isn't all Betty's after, Jughead's prepared to think it's a very good cause indeed. Rated E for all the things you've never seen these characters do in a booth at Pop's.





	Order Up

“And we’re going to pay for anything we eat.”

Jughead knew Betty wasn’t asking so much as just reassuring herself. She’d already said it about five times, and the trip _had_ been her idea.

“Of course. It’s still a date, Betts. We’re not starting a string of criminal behaviour for the sake of breaking the law.”

“So, it’s not breaking and entering tonight and then, like, six months from now… I don’t know. I’m trying to think of a violent crime that hasn’t been committed in our town in real life in the past year.”

“No way. Come on. At least one of us is way too moral for that.”

Betty looked over her shoulder at him accusingly as the lock clicked. Jughead pulled her back by the waist, ignoring her eyes, and nudged his shoulder against the door, pressing up until he felt the sturdier lock disengage. He swung the door open and waved Betty inside.

“We’re doing him a favour.”

“Pop? I’m still stuck on the persistent idea that we’re robbing him.”

Jughead stepped around her, shrugging his jacket from his shoulders and tossing it into a booth. The lights were off inside, but Pop had the neon outdoor sign switched on permanently. Betty looked stunningly electric, like she was inside a prism.

“He’s on holiday.”

“Well deserved,” Betty chimed in, ticking her index finger at him.

“Definitely. It’s a bonus for him that he’ll be making a sale while his business is closed.”

“Uh huh.” She didn’t sound convinced, but she sauntered over to the counter and slid onto a stool, swiveling to face him. He grabbed her knee, making her flinch and squeal, giving her a spin on his way past so that she was facing away from the windows. Jughead stepped into Pop’s regular territory.

“What’d you want?” he asked with a grin.

“Can I see a menu?”

“With this lighting? Probably not.”

Betty groaned in pretend annoyance and dropped her face onto her folded arms. Jughead planted his hands on the counter and pushed himself up so that he could lean across and whisper next to her ear.

“Milkshake?”

She lifted her head.

“Mhmm.”

“Vanilla?”

“Hmm… chocolate.”

“You got it.”

Thank god Pop left everything plugged in and had preparation instructions visible, though Jughead had to squint to read them. The milkshake machine was cold and ready to go. It buzzed away, making Jughead jump at first because the noise was so loud in that otherwise silent space, in a quiet part of town, in the middle of the night. The interior lights were off because they didn’t want to attract attention and, as a result, Jughead overfilled Betty’s glass. There was a thick plop as the excess hit the counter, but Jughead felt around until his fingers met something that seemed to be a roll of paper towels. In the back room, where the kitchen (and almost no light) was, it was hard to be sure. He mopped it up and strolled back out to Betty who was sitting turned to the side. For a second, Jughead was stopped in his tracks. Unearthly blue light caressed his girlfriend’s profile as she stared at apparently nothing at all, looking deep in thought. He stepped out to the main floor to deliver her drink and his eyes fell on her bare legs, aglow in pink and green. The bottom of the milkshake glass landed hard on the counter and Betty startled.

“Aww, thanks, Jug,” she said, spotting her milkshake. She plucked a straw from the carousel and tapped it out of its paper wrapper. When Betty inserted the straw into her shake and put her lips on it, taking the first drink, Jughead felt the hairs on his arms raise. She pulled back, looking up and smiling at him. “Nothing for you?”

“I, uh, can’t decide.”

Jughead jammed his hands into his pockets and leaned into the counter next to her.

“Don’t do this to me! You have to eat something too to make yourself complicit!” Betty swirled her straw in tight patterns through the thick drink in front of her, glancing around. “Aha!” She fished a second straw out and sunk it into the milkshake. “You can share with me.”

Jughead took a sip to appease her, but was amazed to find his milkshake-making skills were better than he’d expected. Betty nudged his cheek with her nose to indicate his turn was over; the straws weren’t long enough for them to drink simultaneously. He surrendered the glass and straightened up with a shiver. As Betty took another drink, he stepped in close behind her, wrapping his arms around her waist, and buried his face in her neck.

“Brain freeze.”

Betty laughed, sitting up straighter.

“I’m not surprised. You were drinking it like we were in a contest.”

“I know it’s not a contest,” he mumbled into her shoulder.

“Good, because you’d never win.”

Jughead peered around to see Betty going for the straw again and quickly rotated her seat with his hands to make her miss her mark. There was a competitive gleam in her eye that took a second too long to disappear. He hadn’t forgotten that Betty got sugar-drunk the way other people their age got… well, actual drunk. He twisted the stool until her knees collided with his legs and she giggled. Jughead stepped back, rolling his eyes, but she held her arms out, open to him. His gaze glided from her hazardous knees to her face and Betty parted her legs slightly, motioning him forward. He stepped into her, holding either side of the stool as he cuddled against her. It was lucky that his hips were so narrow, because she was barely leaving him space. Jughead assumed it was a modesty thing―the girl was almost always in a skirt―but this particular skirt was knee-length since the weather had begun to change and the night was cool.

“There’s nobody around, Betts. Let me closer.” Jughead slid his hands up to slide them under her ass, ready to jerk her forward so they didn’t have to lean their torsos in awkwardly while they embraced.

“I’m not afraid of anybody seeing us.” Betty glanced away and Jughead felt her fingers lacing and unlacing nervously against the back of his neck.

“Well, what is it then?” He frowned, confused.

“You _really_ think I wanted to come out here in the middle of the night and pick a lock just so I could get a milkshake?”

“… Yes?” he asked uncertainly, though on the inside he was really hoping this was going where he thought it was going.

“Oh.” She met his eyes, looking a little disappointed. “Well… if that wasn’t my real motive, how would you feel about that?”

“I would feel…” Jughead’s throat went dry and he had to clear it, “… I would feel great.”

“I don’t mean that I want you to cook me a hamburger instead, Jug.”

He laughed softly, starting to drag her against him.

“Yeah, I got it, Betty.”

She smiled, already looking at his mouth, and pressed her lips to his. It started slow like that. Her smile faded gradually against his lips as they kissed with their mouths closed. Jughead ran his hands up and down over her hips, barely disturbing the way the material of her skirt had settled when she sat. Betty held gently to the back of his neck, scratching her fingers lightly up into his hair while her thumbs rubbed pleasantly behind his ears. He started thinking how he could easily pass a day like this. On the couch in her living room, setting her on her desk at school, on the bleachers during one of Archie’s football games… Jughead’s mind wandered, lulled by the blinding softness of neon whenever he opened his eyes just a crack to look at Betty’s face.

The diner was held at a standard temperature, but Jughead had fiddled with the heat a little since there weren’t any other patrons milling around to raise it organically. From the feel of Betty against him, she was warming up as nicely as he was, so Jughead felt for the buttons on her coat. He unfastened them until he could press her sweatered chest to his. Keeping up the kiss, Betty arched forward against him, wiggling out of her jacket. Holding her hips to his as Jughead was, the extra little vibration from her was enough to wake him up out of the very relaxed state he’d gotten into. He breathed in through his nose, too sharply, too loudly, and Betty drew back, her sleeves slithering down her arms until the coat dropped to the floor between the counter and the stool’s stem. Jughead started to half-smile, looking at her guiltily because of his interruption, but his girl just stared him right in the eye and shifted towards him a little more (it was for effect only, he knew, since she was already just about at the edge of her seat), making it impossible for him to shift his awakening bulge away from her. In fact, it was now pressed right up against her.

Betty ran her fingertips along his jaw, then pulled him into an open-mouthed kiss, clenching her leg muscles to either side of his hips. He didn’t know why, since he wasn’t planning to go anywhere, until she rubbed herself against him, using her grip on him for balance. Jughead made a noise into her mouth and snuck his fingers under the hem of her sweater, feeling Betty press into him more the higher he touched. When his fingertips found the lower edge of her bra, Jughead ran his palms up to shape her, squeezing at the same moment he bumped his hips into hers. Betty pushed back against him fiercely and he huffed when she bit his lip. Tucking his fingers over the lip, Jughead tugged one of her bra cups down, and then the other. He laid his hands on her bare skin, reading her reaction like braille when her nipples rose under his palms.

He knew his palms were damp, but her nipples stayed as alert as if he’d been holding the milkshake glass against them. Running his hands all over her breasts, as deliberately as if he was applying sunscreen, Jughead found her mouth for another kiss. Betty returned it immediately and hungrily, but pulled back just as soon, licking deftly along his top lip. She dragged her mouth up to his ear while his shoulders tensed and his mind went blank. His hands caressed her breasts on their own.

“You taste like chocolate,” she said softly beside his ear.

Jughead’s fingers closed around her nipples, tugging them teasingly. There was less control in his voice, he could tell from the way he was panting into her loose blonde hair all of a sudden. Betty gave a faint moan as he tantalized her and Jughead left one breast yearning for more, pulling his hand out from under her top to push at her shoulder until her back tilted against the high counter. Looking her square in the eye, Jughead slipped her snug, pale blue sweater up her ribcage and over her breasts. Betty’s chest rose and fell in anticipation. When Jughead flicked his head to the side to get his sweeping black hair out of his eyes, the lights shone on her pale chest, pink neon imitating the flush that bloomed naturally to the surface of her skin.

With the sweater settled just under her collarbones, Jughead dropped his hands, lighting on the top of her thighs, her hips, then around to the small of her back. He shut his mouth, breathing long breaths in and out his nose as he lowered his head, taking his time. Betty’s hands jumped from his hair to her own, scooping it frantically behind her ears as she watched him. Jughead licked his lips―concertedly, knowing he had a rapt audience―and Betty _whimpered_. His lips landed on her sternum, kissing her with tenderness.

“God, Jug, you’re making me wet,” she burst out. Jughead’s dick gave a thrilled pulse at that admission.

Drawing back a little, Jughead saw Betty lower her hands and bunch them into fists.

“Uh uh, Betty,” he said, clasping her fingers between his and holding them firmly at her hips. The last thing he wanted was for her to reopen the cuts on her palms accidentally because of something he did.

“Ok?”

She nodded and he smirked at her, just before smoothing the length of his tongue over her nipple. Betty’s breath came roughly and she pushed herself eagerly against his still-swelling erection. He guided her hands to his hips and left them there once he felt her fingers cling to his t-shirt. His own hands returned to her breasts, grasping and lifting them as he worked his tongue over and around her nipples while Betty started supplying little sounds, sketching a disjointed soundtrack of her pleasure. When he bit at her, imagining the redness caused by his careful teeth, though he couldn’t see it, Betty discovered the belt loops of his jeans and brought his hips forward. He pictured her, up under her skirt. He pictured damp cotton and a seeping wetness that called him in like a Siren. He wanted her, blindingly wanted her, and reached down to ruffle his hand below the hem of her skirt, which their positioning had shoved halfway up her thigh. Jughead distantly recalled Betty saying something about it being tights weather, but right now she wasn’t wearing any. There was nothing between his skin and hers.

He lifted his head to see hers tipped back, resting on the counter with her eyes closed and her mouth open, sighing.

“Betts?” his voice was thick, lustful. She raised her head, giving him a femme fatale smile.

Jughead patted her leg and she flicked her eyes down to the bump his hand made under the fabric. Betty raised an eyebrow at him and laid her palm on the back of his hand, her skirt in between, and swept it towards herself, beckoning him to follow her path from below. Jughead swallowed and took a shaky breath, keeping his hand a little behind hers, so that it felt like she was dragging just his fingers along. This was good. This was safe. Safe following distance. Two seconds. Jughead shook his head slightly to startle himself out of a panicked recollection of rules of the road he’d memorized to get his driver’s license.

A look from Betty was all the warning he got before she suddenly moved her hand away. It also told him he was welcome to continue. Jughead slipped his hand towards her inner thigh, chasing the warmth. His cock throbbed when his fingers reached their destination, not just because he was touching her _right there_ , like she’d wanted him to, or because she was wet, like she’d said he was making her, but because Betty wasn’t wearing any underwear.

“Jesus,” Jughead muttered, burrowing his face into her neck. Betty said nothing, just kept her fingers in his belt loops and stared him down with hazy arousal written all over her face.

He rotated his wrist, cupping her suddenly so that Betty gasped and slicked his fingers even more. He curled two of them carefully into her, feeling the greedy suck of her channel. Jughead eyes crawled over her exposed chest and he figured if her top was up, why couldn’t her skirt be? He flipped back the material with his free hand, going so far as to tuck the hem sloppily into the waistband, ensuring it was well and truly clear of his path before glancing down. He groaned and bit down on his bottom lip as he stared at his fingers gliding in and out of her body without friction. Jughead stroked his thumb roughly over her clit and nearly forgot his exploration was giving her pleasure too until Betty cried out without restraint. Their eyes met as she rolled her shoulders, moving deeper into her own ecstasy, her body becoming slacker. They shared a long look, then Jughead plunged his fingers up, hitting her g-spot.

All of a sudden, all four of their hands were fumbling for the opening of his jeans, popping the button and lowering the zipper, and then forcing his jeans and his boxers down his hips. Betty scooted forward so eagerly that Jughead had to grab her so she didn’t tumble from the stool. He wedged his hands under her ass and tipped her back while she wrapped her fingers around his heavy erection and gave him a few steady strokes before aligning him with her entrance. He pushed in, a little at first, and then enough to tell him it wasn’t as deep as he wanted to go. Jughead lifted Betty into him arms, and she came willingly, throwing her arms around his neck. He picked her up and sank in deeper just carrying her from the stool to the table at the nearest booth. His t-shirt was still on, but he didn’t care. His jeans and boxers were encircling his ankles like manacles, but Jughead couldn’t locate a fuck to give.

As soon as he sat her on the table (much closer to the height of his hips than the stool had been), she tightened her legs around him and they bumped together. This was much better. Betty leaned away, removing her sweater and bra. To keep from falling right back, she had to clench her abdominals, which also seriously contracted the hold she had on his cock. He groaned and stroked smoothly into her. Betty was caught between sitting up―she had started to reach for his shoulders―and lying back, just giving up control to him. Seeing her in partial recline, Jughead had an idea. He pulled out of her, the exiting squeeze from Betty making him nearly lose his resolve, and stumbled into the booth, holding her hips to turn her with him. She began to squirm, struggling to right her legs so that she could climb down, but Jughead gripped her inner thighs tightly and brought his mouth to her clit.

In rapid succession, Betty sucked in a handful of breaths, her hips jumping against him. He gave her an unhurried fondle with his tongue and she sighed, collapsing back onto her elbows, then sliding down to horizontal. Betty jerked when her skin hit the chilly surface of the table and the cold seemed to startle her out of the desirous daze they’d both fallen into.

“Juggy,” she said quietly, propping herself up again a little to look at him.

Jughead rested his elbows on the tops of her thighs, absolutely casual.

“Yep?”

“People eat here?” It obviously wasn’t a question; Jughead actions weren’t quite powerful enough to make her lose her grip on reality so completely that she forgot they were at Pop’s. He guessed it was an argument she was having with herself about the location versus how badly she didn’t want him to stop that made her sentence curl up at the end. He hoped it was that.

“And?” He smiled slyly at her and leaned ahead to kiss her hip bone. “That’s what I’m doing.”

Her eyes went wide and glossy with the vibrant green light pouring in the window and it made Jughead grin to see her pulling her sweater under her back to protect her before lying flat again. He pulled Betty towards him, sliding her easily on the slippery fabric of her skirt, and found her clit again without hesitation. She made a small noise, then relaxed into it more and more with every touch he applied. He flicked at her with his tongue, working her up quickly, then substituted that for a lengthy, leisurely lick that made her hips lift until he had to grasp them firmly with both hands to keep her from jostling him out of the sweet spot he’d discovered. Jughead laid a palm on Betty’s trembling abdomen and felt the hopeful heat of her skin. There was energy there, waiting to be unleashed.

Jughead drew back, kissing down her thigh while Betty’s fuzzy brain regained awareness. She somewhat uncoordinatedly rose onto her elbows and their eyes met as he was running his lips over her inner knee. He never underestimated her intelligence and saw in that moment that she understood he wasn’t coming back to manipulate her any further with his tongue. It was time to move on.

Betty sat up and he wrapped his arms around her, hauling her off the table and into his lap. His dick stood quivering, waiting. When she settled in place, pressing her flushed chest to his, Jughead pushed his nose into her pale hair and breathed deeply, running his palms all over her back. Gradually, she shuffled nearer, pinning his erection between them, and then tipped her hips back so that he was slicked with the arousal he’d just used his tongue to bring forth. Jughead puffed out a breath like he was psyching himself up to skydive or do some other extreme sport. This was kind of an extreme date for them―breaking and entering. His mind dwelled on the last word of that common crime and Jughead smirked in self-satisfaction against Betty’s neck.

“You ready, honey?” he mumbled into her skin. Betty’s nod was wobbly and she raised her hips quickly. “Wait.” He laughed a little, holding her face away from his so he could look in her eyes. “Wait, wait, wait. Are you sure?”

Betty gave Jughead a demure little smile then slanted her face against his, kissing him and probing deeply into his mouth to give his tongue a lingering stroke with hers. When she pulled back, he was short of breath.

“Come on, Juggy. My milkshake’s melting over there.”

Jughead narrowed his eyes at her judgementally, though he couldn’t help smiling, even while he added in a condescending shake of his head. Betty grinned vividly in return and he guided her hips over to his, bringing her down to take advantage of the wet welcome she had for him between her legs. Jughead thought he was ready for it, but he wasn’t. He thought the cold plastic-y seat of the booth had dissolved under his bare ass and he’d been left hovering―half numb, half overloaded with sensation―in midair, but he hadn’t. He didn’t grasp reality enough to even recognize that his eyes were closed until he felt Betty tenderly kissing his lids. Jughead opened his eyes when she rolled her hips over his, jerking his shoulders like he was going to be sick, though it was only a sheltering motion, his body instinctively trying to bring her closer. Well, the joke was on his reflexes because she was about as close as she could ever be.

Holding her limply around her lower back, Jughead gave an experimental pulse up into her channel. Betty sighed in what appeared to be great contentment, arching and wiggling on him to find for him the spot she wanted stroked, taking initiative, pulling him back like a toy car before freeing him to go zipping ahead. Jughead’s head fell forward at the feel of her thorough circling and he panted into her throat. She smelled like warmth and chocolate. Suddenly, Betty rocked hard against him, sending his cock deep. That was it for him. The cramped space between the booth-back and the table’s edge became a blessing, became the cubical Jughead was ready to sign up for and toil within. He surged up into her, feeling Betty’s knees dig into the seat on either side of him as she moved with him. She accommodated his upward jut and followed him down, riding him with a sensual swing of her hips. Jughead thrust sharply again, but she didn’t give him as much freedom this time, gripping his hips with her thighs and grinding down on his lap, rubbing herself forward in search of friction for her clit.

Her movements were so free, so uninhibited that Jughead abandoned his usual care in these situations with her and tensed his arms around her, competing with her for the control of pulling her body down onto his and angling their alignment. Betty’s forehead creased when he threw off her rhythm, but the strength and passion of his driving thrusts abruptly won her over. He felt her relax her leg muscles, running one palm up and down her thigh. Jughead found Betty’s g-spot, striking it on every other thrust, then every thrust as their bodies started to move easily together, unwound and ravenously pursuing orgasm.

He chewed his lip, nudging her torso back with his so that her nipples rubbed his chest, until her back slanted against the table. Jughead released all hold on her, gripping the table’s edge instead, and drilled into her. Betty tightened her fingers around his arms until her hands were like claws, but she was only imprisoning him in the moment― _their_ moment―not asking for him to stop, or even slow down. Jughead’s breathing became so loud in his own ears that he could have been standing in a wind tunnel. Meanwhile, Betty’s gasps came short and sharp like hiccups as she struggled to hang on, until the moment Jughead’s thrusts convinced her to let go instead. Their bodies moved chaotically together, synchronicity forgotten, ultimate bliss on the nearing horizon. He barely felt the final shallow pitching of her hips as she was thrown into climax because he was flying into it as well.

They slowed suddenly like the sun had risen and they were turning to stone. Jughead lifted Betty off his lap to sit next to him and they silently turned to look out the window. Nope, the sun wasn’t rising, it was six or seven hours too early for that, but there was the phosphorescent radiance of the new surroundings, everything looking like it had been coloured by highlighters. Closer than that, there were their own reflections in the glass, barely discernable, but when they could spot them, they were blazing with light.

“Thanks,” Betty whispered, laying her head back tiredly against Jughead’s shoulder.

He kissed her hair.

“For what? The milkshake?”

“Among other things.”

He caught her smile in the glass.


End file.
